Dead of Winter

by P J Parrish

  Lacey’s fingers tore at Louis’s arm around his neck. “You’re gonna die, motherfucker!” he yelled.

  “Shut up! I’m trying to save you!” Louis hissed in his ear.

  But that only drove Lacey into a greater fury. Louis swung the butt of the shotgun into Lacey’s face. Lacey stopped struggling, momentarily stunned.

  A flash of silver caught Louis’s eye and he squinted into the darkness, trying to make out Gibralter’s outline in the faint illumination given off by the truck’s dome light. Gibralter’s badge glinted a second time as he emerged from the shadows in front of the truck.

  His gun was drawn, pointed at Lacey’s head. Louis tightened his grip on Lacey’s neck, his heart jumping to his throat. He knew he couldn’t rotate the shotgun up quickly enough to use it against Gibralter.

  Lacey was coming alive again. Then suddenly he froze and Louis knew he had seen Gibralter standing just four feet away.

  “Say good-bye, asshole,” Gibralter said.

  Louis tried to spin but was caught between the door and truck. He braced for the bullet he knew would rip through Lacey and into his own chest.

  Gibralter’s gun exploded and Louis was pushed into the door. He felt a dampness trickle down his face as Lacey went limp in his arm. Louis forced his eyes open.

  Lacey was deadweight. Louis let him slip to the ground. He reached up to his face and his fingers came away wet with Lacey’s blood and brains.

  Louis glared at Gibralter. “You bastard!” he yelled, lunging at him, shotgun raised over his head.

  He slammed the shotgun down, catching Gbiralter on the right shoulder. Louis drew it back again, this time with both hands and aiming for Gibralter’s head. Gibralter threw up his arm and ducked away.

  Another blast exploded, shattering the truck’s window and showering them with glass.

  Louis dropped to the ground and crawled around the back of the truck, away from the porch. He crouched by the front wheel and drew in several quick breaths, his fingers iced to the shotgun barrel. His eyes frantically searched the darkness for the source of the shot and for Gibralter.

  “Kincaid.”

  Louis spun to his left. Gibralter was crouched by the back wheel, holding his shoulder with his left hand, his right hand still gripping his revolver.

  Louis swung to aim the shotgun at him.

  Gibralter looked at it then laughed softly. His eyes drifted up to the porch.

  Louis followed his gaze. The front door was open a crack, letting out a trickle of light from inside. Louis could make out the outline of a woodpile on the porch. But he couldn’t see Cole. He had fired on them. Had he gone back inside?

  “Cole!” Louis called.

  “Stay back or I’ll shoot again.”

  He was still out on the porch, probably crouched down behind the woodpile.

  “Cole! Put the gun down!”

  “Fuck you! I’m not crazy.” The voice sounded small.

  “Cole! This isn’t the way to end this!”

  Louis glanced at Gibralter but he was watching the porch.

  “Cole, you don’t have to die!” Louis called out. “You can give up right now. Nothing will happen to you.”

  Cole’s laugh came out as a cry. “Tell that to Johnny and Angela!”

  Louis shook his head. The kid had seen what had happened at the raid. “Cole, listen to me,” Louis said. “I know what happened to your brother and sister. I can help you make things right.”

  Cole didn’t answer.

  “I have proof, Cole! I have evidence you can use to prove what you saw!”

  “Fuck you!”

  Louis heard a low chuckle and looked over to see Gibralter shaking his head.

  “Cole! Listen to me! The men who killed your brother and sister, they’ll pay, I swear! But you have to stay alive to tell the truth!”

  The sound of shuffling feet came from the porch followed by the thud of a log falling.

  “Cole? Are you listening? You have to trust me!”

  “You’re one of them, man!”

  “No! No, I’m not!” Louis glanced at Gibralter. He could see the contempt in his eyes. “Cole, think about Johnny! He wouldn’t want you to die like he did! I can protect you!”

  Louis heard Gbiralter laugh again. “Right, Kincaid, you keep feeding him that bullshit. Go ahead, draw him out. Give me a clear shot.”

  A second gunshot split the quiet, peppering the front of the truck and making Louis duck back.

  Louis swung the shotgun at Gibralter. “Shut up! He can hear you!”

  Gbiralter shook his head and looked back at the porch. Louis lifted his head again, straining to hear something on the porch. Nothing, except the crack of a shotgun opening. Cole was reloading. There was a small thump, then the sound of something rolling across the wood porch.

  “Cole?”

  “Fuck...fuck,” Cole whispered.

  “Cole, that was a shotgun shell. You dropped it.”

  “I have more!”

  “I don’t hear them going into that gun.”

  Cole was silent but then came more shuffling and another log falling. He heard Cole curse softly.

  “Cole, you’re out of shells,” Louis said. “And if you try for the door I’ll have to shoot you. I don’t want to do that.”

  Louis waited. He saw Gibralter rise slowly, one hand on the bed of the truck, the other holding the revolver.

  “Cole, throw the gun out,” Louis yelled. “I’ll come up there and get you.”

  “No! Stay back! He’ll kill me!”

  “I can protect you.”

  “Like you protected my dad? You held him while he killed him!”

  “I was trying to save him. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “Fuck you, fuck both of you,” Cole said hoarsely, his voice dying to a whisper. “Fuck everyone.”

  Louis stood up. “Cole, I’m coming up.”

  With a look at Gibralter, he started slowly around the front of the truck. He knew Gibralter wouldn’t shoot him in the back with his own gun but he prayed he was right about Cole being out of shells.

  “Don’t, don’t...” Cole’s words were more plea than threat.

  “Cole, I’m in front of the truck,” Louis said calmly, glancing back at Gibralter. Gibralter had rounded the back of the truck. Louis leveled the shotgun at him.

  “Stay there,” he said. “You’re not touching this kid.”

  Gibralter stared at him. Louis braced the shotgun against his side, his finger on the trigger. With his left hand, he pulled the flashlight out of his belt and shined it up on the porch.

  The beam fell across logs. Louis swung it back to Gibralter. He hadn’t moved.

  Slowly, Louis sidestepped up to the hut, his eyes darting between Gibralter and the porch. He reached the step.

  “Cole, I’m coming up.”

  A whimper from behind the logs.

  Gibralter took a step forward. Louis swung the flashlight to shine in his face.

  “You lift that gun, you’re dead,” Louis said.

  “There is no dishonor in death, Kincaid,” Gibralter said softly. “Seppuku...”

  Louis shined the light back to the porch and it picked up a spot of blue, Cole’s denim shirt. He was crouched behind the woodpile.

  “Cole?”

  Easy, easy...

  Louis heard a sound and swung his light back to Gibralter. His gun was moving.

  Louis spun to the porch and his flashlight caught Cole’s face only for an instant, just long enough to give Gibralter a target. Louis swung the beam away.

  He saw the flash of Gibralter’s gun go off. His own hand jerked back on the trigger of the shotgun and it bucked violently against his ribs.

  An explosion of noise, followed by echoes that seemed to pound in his head. Then it was quiet.

  Gibralter was lying on the ground, his body dark against the snow. His palm was up, the revolver inches away in the snow.

  Louis stared at him, his chest heaving.
/>   Cole moaned.

  Louis swung the flashlight beam around, picking up Cole lying on the porch.

  No, check Gibralter first. Eliminate the threat.

  He fell to his knees next to Gibralter and pressed a finger to his throat. Nothing. He tried the wrist. Nothing. There was a large black hole in the blue nylon of the parka.

  Gibralter was dead.

  CHAPTER 41

  Louis gathered both revolvers and the radio from Gibralter’s body and hurried up to the porch. He knelt next to Cole, propping the kid’s head on his knee.

  “Where are you hit?”

  “In the belly...God, it hurts. Fuck...”

  Louis caught Cole under the arms and dragged him inside the hut. He spotted a cot in the corner and carefully lifted him up on it as Cole screamed in pain. In the spare light of the room’s single kerosene lantern, Louis looked down into Cole’s pale, sweaty face.

  He pulled up Cole’s shirt. Blood was pouring out of the small black hole below Cole’s rib cage.

  “What are you doing?” Cole asked, his eyes frantic.

  “Put this on it. Keep pressure on it,” Louis said, grabbing the army blanket from the foot of the cot and handing it to Cole.

  “I’m going to die,” Cole said.

  “No, you’re not.’

  “I’m going to die. I’m going to die.” Cole was crying.

  “Cole, stop. Listen to me. We’ve got to get some help. Tell me where we are.”

  “I’m bleeding! I’m going to die!”

  “Cole! You’re not going to die! Now help me. Tell me where we are, damn it!”

  Cole wiped his face and pointed across the room. Louis saw a scarred footlocker.

  “Maps,” Cole said.

  Louis went to the locker and jerked it open. He rummaged through the dirty clothes and debris, finally pulling out two maps. The first was nothing but a series of undulating circles, a topography map that he couldn’t read. He tossed it aside. The second one he unfolded was a county map that detailed every highway, road and landmark, even the old logging roads. He brought it back to Cole.

  “Where are we?” he demanded, holding it up to Cole’s face.

  Cole’s eyes were closed. Louis shook his shoulder. “Cole! Show me where we are!”

  Cole’s eyes fluttered open and he struggled to focus. With a shaky finger he pointed to the map, leaving a bloody smudge. He fell back with a grimace.

  Louis grabbed the radio and called Loon Lake. A voice came back to him, Edna’s voice, the sweet sound of Edna’s nasally voice.

  “L-11? Where are you?”

  “Edna, listen carefully. I need a flight-for-life chopper. And contact Chief Steele —- ”

  “Chief Steele? But he isn’t —- ”

  “Find him! Tell him..” Louis hesitated. Christ, he hated to say all this over the radio. “Tell him I have one injured suspect and a 10-99, officer down. Tell Steele I need him now. Repeat, I need him —- ”

  “Louis, Chief Steele isn’t going to —- ”

  “Tell him I have Lacey. Tell him he’s dead.”

  Louis read off the longitude and latitude of the hut’s location along with the nearest roads. He signed off, knowing it would still be hard for anyone to find them. There was nothing to do now but wait.

  Louis touched Cole’s face. It was cold and his breathing was shallow. Louis glanced around the hut for another blanket, finally spotting the blue police parka crumbled in a corner. He got it and spread it over Cole’s chest.

  “Cole,” he said. He had to keep him conscious somehow.

  Cole didn’t open his eyes but Louis could see the slight rise and fall of his chest beneath the parka.

  “I’m sorry you had to see your father die like that.”

  Cole opened his eyes. “He knew you’d get him,” he whispered. “He knew he was going to die and he didn’t care. He just wanted to finish it.”

  Louis shook his head. “I don’t think your father killed anyone. I think that’s just what you want to believe.”

  “He did!” Cole said with a grimace. “He killed those cops. I know he did.”

  Louis pressed Cole’s shoulder gently back into the cot. “Cole...”

  “He showed me, he showed me the cards.”

  Louis tensed. “What cards?”

  Cole brought a hand out from under the parka and pointed again to the footlocker.

  Louis went to the locker and dug down through the debris again. A pack of Bee cards was on the bottom. He slid the pack open. There were only three cards, bound with a rubber band. Louis pulled it off and fanned the cards. All had the drawing of the skull and crossbones on the back. Louis turned the cards over.

  There was an ace of hearts, a king of diamonds and a two of clubs.

  The ace symbolized one, Gibralter’s call number. The king was number thirteen, for Jesse. But the last card...a two? Pryce’s call number had been Loon-2. But Pryce had been thrown an ace of spades. This card had never been delivered.

  He stared at the cards in his hand and suddenly he understood. Two killers...There had been two.

  All along, he had wanted to tie all three murders to one killer and he had gone back and forth between Lacey and Gibralter. But now he saw clearly that there had been two.

  First there was Lacey. Driven by his demons and need for revenge, he had killed Lovejoy. Gibralter had discovered Lovejoy’s body in the shanty and realized it was Lacey’s work. Gibralter had then killed Pryce to silence him, duplicating Lacey’s methods and motive as his cover.

  That was why Lacey had retreated to Dollar Bay, telling Millie that “everything was fucked up.” That’s also why he waited so long to continue his rampage before finally killing Ollie.

  Louis let out a tired breath. Gibralter had cold-bloodedly thought out every detail. From finding out Lacey’s boot size to putting his friend’s body in the ice hole so Pryce would be mistaken as Lacey’s first victim, not a copycat killing.

  Gibralter had thought of everything, even down to duplicating Lacey’s signature of the death card. But Gibralter had missed one small thing. He didn’t realize Lacey was using the cops’ call numbers. He had thrown the ace of spades down on Pryce, assuming it would look like a racial insult.

  “Hey...”

  Louis turned. Cole’s face was white and tear-streaked in the lantern’s glow. Louis went to him, lifted the parka and saw that the blanket under Cole’s hand was soaked with blood.

  “Don’t let me die,” Cole whispered.

  “I won’t.”

  Cole closed his eyes.

  A heaviness came over Louis. He had no right to make any more promises to Cole Lacey.

  CHAPTER 42

  Louis could hear the whirring of the chopper as it sat waiting in the clearing beyond the trees. He watched as Cole was brought out on a stretcher. A minute later, the chopper rose above the trees and moved off into the darkness. It was only then Louis turned back to face Steele and the question he had asked.

  “Answer me,” Steele demanded. “You expect me to believe this shit?”

  “Cole will back it up,” Louis said.

  “That stupid kid?” Steele said. “Hardly a credible witness.”

  Louis’s eyes swept over the chaos of men surrounding the hut. Fatigue had numbed him to the cold but the ache inside lingered. He hurt, every part of him hurt.

  “I told you the truth,” Louis said.

  “Your chief is dead,” Steele said. “The goddamn suspect is dead and the kid will probably die. You expect me to believe Chief Gibralter orchestrated this insane operation and then shot down the suspects in cold blood?”

  Louis stared at him. “It’s the truth. All of it.”

  “You better hope Cole Lacey lives long enough to back up your story, Kincaid. If he doesn’t you can add murder to the long list of criminal charges I’m going to hit you with.”

  Steele turned, took several steps then came back. “I’ve seen a lot of stupidity in my time but this takes it all,” he
said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Jesse. I was thinking about Jesse.”

  “Who?”

  “Jesse Harrison,” Louis snapped. “My partner.”

  “Who is also dead.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  Steele stared at him, shaking his head. “You know something, Kincaid, Gibralter is not the only lunatic in this fucked-up department. Lacey abducted your partner and left him dead somewhere. Not Gibralter, not your chief.”

  Louis held up the rabbit’s foot. “This belongs to Jesse. He had it with him earlier tonight at my cabin. I found it in Gibralter’s Bronco.”

  Steele stared at him. “So where is he then?”

  “I don’t know but I’m going to look for him.”

  Steele shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. You’re on suspension.”

  “You don’t have the authority,” Louis said. “I’m going to look for Jesse.”

  “I could arrest you and detain you for hours.”

  Louis closed his fist around the rabbit’s foot. “Look, I know Gibralter. I know how he thinks. Now let me go so I can join the search.”

  Steele’s eyes hardened as the wind blew snow across his face. Louis shook his head in disgust and turned to walk away.

  Steele’s voice sounded behind him. “Lockhart!” he called, waving to a trooper just exiting his car.

  Louis turned. Steele met his eye briefly then looked at the trooper. “Take Kincaid back to town.”

  Lockhart nodded and opened the back door to his cruiser. Louis slid in the back. He pulled his parka up around him. The stiff nylon was raw against his face.

  “Turn up the heat, will you, guys?”

  Lockhart’s partner nodded and after a few minutes the back began to warm up. Louis stared at the backs of their heads through the mesh screen as the cruiser bounced down the snowy hill. After a while, it hit a logging road and Lockhart sped up as he threaded through the trees toward the highway.

  Where would Gibralter have taken Jesse? To his own home? To Zoe’s cabin? Neither of those choices made sense. He wasn’t sure Jesse was even alive. If Jesse had decided to turn against Gibralter he might be dead out in the woods somewhere.